Homecoming Tradition
by angst cupcake
Summary: 'For every Homecoming football game, per tradition, members from the football team were allowed to choose a Cheerio to be their personal cheerleader.' Sam x Kurt
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Homecoming Tradition

**Pairing: **Kurt Hummel/Sam Evans

**Rating: **T

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. Sad day. :'(

**A/N: **Two fics in two days? I'm on a roll. ; ) Enjoy!

* * *

For every Homecoming football game, per tradition, members from the football team were allowed to choose a Cheerio to be their personal cheerleader. Each Cheerio got the football player's extra jersey to wear for the game, and got the number painted on their face. They'd wear the jersey for the week ahead of the game as morale and then where it for the night of the game as support. For most of the girls, it was an exciting time and usually a blossoming of new relationships or cat-fights over who got who. For Kurt, it was an utter nightmare; even being the captain of the Cheerios did nothing for him.

Kurt had been hoping halfheartedly that perhaps at least _one_ player who hadn't gotten a Cheerio (there were usually three or four, and they would normally choose some girl from the stands to wear their number) might approach him. Finn gave Rachel his, of course. That was no surprise. Though, Coach Sylvester had thrown a real fit over it, saying being in Glee club and _not_ being one of her Cheerios excluded her from being a choice. Principal Figgins ruled against her, and Rachel had eagerly accepted the jersey like it was the Regionals trophy.

Puck gave his to Santana, despite how Quinn had asked for it. That one was sort of surprising, but when rumor got around that Santana would castrate Puck for even thinking about it, it suddenly wasn't so surprising at all. One by one, each Cheerio began to sport jerseys in the halls and Kurt began to feel smaller and smaller. He sighed. It wasn't like he'd been expecting to get one, but it just would have been nice to be considered...

Kurt pretended to be indulged in his nails like they were possibly the most interesting thing in the world. He was trying to also pretend that the clenching in his stomach was from Coach Sylvester's diet, and _not_ from jealousy or rejection. It was the day before the game, and at this rate, he was going to be the only Cheerio in uniform for Friday night.

Kurt slammed his locker shut, pushing a frustrated hand through his hair – and opened up his locker again, inspecting the damage and with practiced ease, made it perfect once more. Not that it did much good once he turned around to head to class and was met with a sharp, cold, wet sting as cherry slushy hit him in the face.

"Hey! Where's your jersey,_ fag_?" Azimio called out after him as him, slapping Karofsky a high-five. Kurt licked his lips and frowned. He could already feel what the horrible, sticky substance was doing to his face. He wiped it from his eyes, and opened his locker once again, pulling out his spare clothes. Kurt headed to the bathroom, frustrated, and shoved through the door.

–

Sam splashed water over his face. He was nervous. Really nervous. Sure, he'd played games before, but this was the _Homecoming_ game. It was big, you know? And being the quarterback, he had a lot riding on his shoulders.

He'd yet to find a Cheerio to wear his jersey, too. He'd had plenty of offers from several girls, but as cliché as it sounded, he wanted the one who wore it to be one who deserved it. And he certainly didn't want to give it to a chick who'd promise to castrate him. Maybe he should give his to Quinn. She'd seemed sad when Puck hadn't given her his jersey, but then again, she already had one from another player so she was well off.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid fucking _neanderthals_-" Sam looked up as the door was thrown open and he jolted, hurriedly grabbing paper towels and wiping his face. A boy, probably his age, came storming through. They froze when they met eyes.

"Hi." Sam said bluntly. He knew this kid, who didn't? Kurt Hummel. He was the first male captain of the Cheerios in the history of... forever (coach Sylvester was advocating to have it written down in the encyclopedias of the world). And he was Finn's younger brother ("Sort of, we're kind-of-almost-step-brothers, if that makes sense," Finn had said). And he had a really great ass. Sam had watched Kurt sway up to the board _more_ than once in Spanish class to finish up a problem that was offered.

And he was gay, Sam remembered that. It was treated like social suicide at a school like this, but to Sam, it was a miracle. When he'd heard there was only one other gay kid at the school, he'd been dreading that he'd only end up dating him because they were both gay. Why, then, was it a a miracle, you ask? Because Kurt turned out to be _smoking hot_, really funny, really sweet, really flexible, _and_ he had an amazing voice. And Sam wanted him.

"Hello." Kurt replied, shuffling awkwardly. Sam suddenly noticed the icy drink that had been thrust across the other boy's face and chest.

"Dude, what happened?" Sam asked, his brows pulling together with concern.

"Please don't ask." Kurt said, shoulders sagging. He looked suddenly weak and Sam nodded. He grabbed more paper towels, folding them up and handed them to Kurt. Kurt snorted, pushing sticky locks of hair from his face.

"_Please_. Do you realize how raw those will make the skin on my face if I rub it in?" Kurt asked and Sam raised a brow.

"I was thinking anything to get that slushy off would be fine. What else would you use?" Sam asked and Kurt placed his bag on the table. He opened it up, and pulled out a small pack of wipes.

"Moist towelettes," Sam laughed and Kurt shrugged as he pulled out a few and began to swipe away the sticky ice, "Laugh all you please, they condition and clean my face quite well, thank you."

"Trust me, I know. My mother thinks their miracle wipes. The only reason I couldn't give you any is because I ran out of the last pack she gave _me_." Sam held up his hands and he didn't miss the surprised look Kurt sent his way.

"What? Not all of us are stupid neanderthals." Sam winked, flashing a bright grin.

–

Kurt blushed and looked away as he turned on the faucet and began to pool water into his hands to thrust into his hair and pull free any of the caked syrup and ice, "You heard that, huh?" Kurt pursed his lips as he pulled off his jacket delicately, laying it on the nearest sink as gently as possible. He'd chosen the wrong day to wear his favorite Marc Jacob's jacket. He paused, glancing over at Sam in earnest for a long moment, "You won't... tell... will you?"

Sam started at him, surprised, like he might have gone crazy, "What? No! Trust me, by playing on the same team with them, I understand why you're pissed." Kurt felt relief swell into his chest and he smiled, nodding.

"Thanks."

"Hey, no problem." Sam nodded, hitching his bag on his shoulder. Kurt turned back to the mirror and looked down at his shirt with an angry scowl. The slushy had soaked right through his jacket.

"You need a shirt?" Sam asked and Kurt looked up. His eyes widened when he saw Sam holding out his jersey.

–

Sam smiled as he watched shock worm its way across Kurt's face when he presented him with the jersey.

"Ummm, Sam... aren't you supposed to give that to a Cheerio for the Homecoming game?" Kurt asked, face pale. He'd known Sam was nice, Finn had told him so. But Finn had told him that Puck was nice too and for years, the jock had tossed him into the dumpster. He couldn't be too sure. But, he could be sure that Sam had a killer smile with a pair of green eyes that always seemed to grin with him, and Kurt always found his knees a little weak when the other walked into the room. And in the time they'd been around one another over the school year so far, Sam had genuinely seemed interested in talking to him and being around him and just being a _friend_.

"Aren't you a Cheerio?" Sam raised a brow, flashing another toothy grin that had Kurt's heart skipping a beat.

"Well... yeah, but-"

"But what?"

"Well, it's just... I don't know, I wouldn't think... you'd want me to wear it." Kurt's face was almost as red as the slushy patch on his shirt. Sam cocked his head.

"Why not?"

"Look, I'm just not used to guys looking at me or being around me without freaking out that they'll, y'know... "catch the gay" or whatever, other than Finn and Artie." Kurt blurted out and returned to cleaning up his face and neck. Sam's lips compressed into a tight line and he watched Kurt's back. He reached out, gently touching his shoulder.

"I can't catch what I already have." Sam said quietly. Kurt turned around so fast, his elbow met Sam's stomach in a hard blow. Sam stumbled back, surprised and Kurt reached out for him, grabbing his shirt and held on for dear life as they crashed to the floor. It was silent as Kurt lay splayed atop of the football player. Sam's hands on his hips left him shivering and their faces were so close that there noses were brushing and – suddenly Sam began to laugh hysterically.

"It's not funny!" Kurt tried to scowl, but it was too late, he was already laughing, "Who knows what is on the floor!"

"We are!" Sam grinned as he stood, grabbing Kurt's arm and helped him up. He dusted himself down as Kurt checked his pants for any marks. Sam smiled as Kurt checked his ass without shame, and Sam admired him in a way that had the other boy redder than a tomato.

"So, ummm, Kurt."

"Yeah?" Sam pulled his jersey off the floor, shaking it out as he handed it over.

"Would you want to wear my jersey to the football game? I'd... really like it if you would." Sam rubbed the back of his neck, offering another smile, but this time it was anxious. Kurt smiled with pink cheeks as he gently accepted the shirt, looking down at it. #23. He'd have to get Mercedes to paint his face – _after_ she woke up from having fainted.

"Yeah... Yeah, I'd like to." Kurt nodded eagerly as he pulled off his shirt, using the moist towelette to wipe down his chest. Once cleaned, he pulled on his jersey, glancing down at himself. He turned back to the bathroom mirror, looking at his reflection. Sam was smiling at him through the glass.

"Look at you. My own personal, little cheerleader." Sam laughed and Kurt rolled his eyes.

"It doesn't look half bad. Of course, it's nothing like my Alexander McQueen vest, accompanied with matching tie and blouse with-"

"It looks sexy. I like this look on you," Sam's eyebrows wriggled, eying Kurt up in down in a way that even a blind person would be yelling at him for subtlety. Kurt chuckled, touching the jersey with a fond smile. He was wearing a football jersey – and a football player had given it to him. _Willingly_. As in _wanted_ to give it to him. Kurt almost couldn't believe it.

"Would you also like to go to the Homecoming dance with me?" Kurt froze in place. He stared at Sam in the reflection of the mirror. He was grinning at him nervously again.

"Really?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded, admiring him in the jersey once more; he'd have to get him to wear it for every game, it made him look positively _delicious_, "Really." Kurt turned around, beaming up at him. He really didn't know how such a bad day could have ended up like this, but he didn't care. He was just glad that Sam didn't seem to care when Kurt threw his arms about his neck and kissed him. He was even happier when Sam responded. When they drew away, Sam's already plump lips were just a bit more swollen and Kurt could feel the sting on his own.

Sam licked his lips, leaning back in for another kiss, "I'll take that as a yes."

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Reviews are love.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **Homecoming Tradition (part two)

**Pairing: **Kurt Hummel/Sam Evans

**Rating: **T

**A/N: **Everyone really seemed to like the first half of this, and I wasn't really going to continue it past a one-shot. But you were all so supportive and loving in your comments and reviews that I just had to write another chapter! I plan on writing another chapter of them at the dance, and from there I'll decide whether or not to end it there, or perhaps continue it. ; ) Keep tuning in! And thank you!

* * *

The Homecoming game has everyone reeling in excitement. Especially Kurt.

Quinn's gave him the biggest, knowing smile when she spied his jersey as he walked into the gym during the before-game warm ups. He didn't really get noticed until she came over to him because most people were watching her anyway. She's looked _stunning_. Her lashes were dark and pulled out, seeming to shadow her eyes, and beneath her eyes were spatters of glitter. They seemed to shine brighter when she was smiling. She had the number 38 painted across her left cheek and the jersey pulled tight around her slimming figure. She'd done well in losing the baby weight, and losing it _fast_.

"Well, well, well, look at you," Quinn nodded approvingly, winking at him and Kurt grinned. When she crooked a finger, he leaned in, "I knew he'd like you. When I kissed him it was like an alarm went off for "raging homo"." Kurt laughed and Quinn strung her arm through his. Her and Sam had dated briefly when he'd first transferred and joined Glee club. Their break up came as a surprise, but this was certainly going to be a _bigger_ one.

"You look hot, by the way," Quinn admired him as they walked. And he did. In Sam's words, had he been there: _smoking_. Mercedes (who surprisingly hadn't fainted) had also painted Sam's number onto his cheek in bold strokes. The jersey hung loosely off his frame, hugging at the slim shoulders, but it gave much to the idea of Kurt's lithe figure beneath it. His hair was, dare he say it, immaculate – as always of course, but even more so.

People had started to notice, but Kurt didn't care. He felt _sexy_, and he didn't feel that way often. He really wanted to find Sam and see what he thought, but tradition was that you had to wait until the end of the game to see your respective football player, when they gave you their Homecoming rose.

"What those leggings do to your ass is _sinful_." Santana's arm was suddenly stringing through his free one, Brittany on her other side. It had taken Kurt three hours, 28 minutes, and 51 seconds to find the _perfect _leggings. He'd been counting, if you couldn't tell. Apparently, he'd made the right choice, though.

Quinn leaned back slightly to eye him down and Kurt swatted at her arm as they headed outside, "My eyes are up here."

They were a quadrant of power as they strut for the field, the other Cheerios following in formation, like a flock to its prey, Coach Sylvester at their front.

–

The Cheerios had a selected place at the front of the bleachers where they sat and cheered while the game went on. Kurt found his father in the stands with Carol and waved. His father waved back with a light-hearted smile (he was staring at Kurt's jersey though, and Kurt was sure he was trying to match it to a player on the field; Kurt needed to remember to lock the shotgun in the attack when he got home). Kurt laughed as Carol practically flailed at him, "You look great, honey!" She shouted and Kurt went pink, turning away hurriedly.

Santana whistled loudly. It was deafening. "Let's go out there! What the hell are you guys playing out there, football or fucking footsie with the opposite team!" She shouted. Many people would be surprised to learn that Santana was an avid football fan. Despite living in Ohio, her favorite team was the Pittsburgh Steelers and every year (as Kurt found out this year when she invited him over as they grew closer in friendship, especially after his father's heart attack and she'd come to him asking how to tell her parents about Brittany), her family practically worshiped the television when the Superbowl season came around.

"I like playing footsie," Brittany smiled thoughtfully, "Especially under the table at restaurants. Santana gets this really weird, but really hot face when I rub my foot up her thigh and-"

"Brittany!" Kurt and Quinn chorused together. Santana's face had flamed up bright red and Brittany frowned sadly before reaching out, pinky extended. Santana looked flustered, but linked their fingers together anyhow. The frown disappeared and Brittany was back to glowing.

Kurt had a maddening itch in his body that kept him jittery and breathing too fast for his own good.

"Why can't this game be over any sooner?" He whined and Quinn patted his knee.

"Calm down lover boy," She cooed mockingly, "You'll get your man soon enough. In fact, I think you catwalking to the food stand a few minutes ago distracted him and that's what cost us the last touch down. Nice going, Kurt." Kurt rolled his eyes, eyes roaming back to the field. The second quarter was ending, and so far, both teams were tied.

"You ready for this?" Quinn looked over at him as the last ten seconds began to count down, "Homecoming game, head cheerleader, a sexy boy who wants your hot ass watching your every move in the stands... think you can handle this?" Quinn smirked at him and Kurt raised a brow.

"_Please_. I was _born_ ready for this."

–

Sam jogged to the sidelines, hair slightly matted with sweat as he pulled of his helmet and ruffled it up. The cool breeze was welcoming as it swept across the field, the timer still buzzing, signaling half-time. Nothing was better than the water, though. Sam downed an entire bottle in less than fifteen seconds. It was so cold it made his eyes sting and it hurt his throat, but it was so _good_.

"How you holdin' up out there, son?" Beiste slapped his shoulder and Sam nodded, cheeks flushed as he panted.

"Pretty good. We're only down by one since we didn't make the field kick after our second touch down, but yeah," Sam nodded, taking a towel from his coach and wiped his face, "Pretty damn good. You?"

"Well, I haven't started crying over your stats like the time I saw the team's stats for last year, so I can say I'm doing well." Beiste chuckled, "Keep on truckin' kid, we're gonna win this one." She gave his shoulder another pat, and Sam nodded, going for another water bottle.

"Hey faggot," Ice-cold water met his face and Sam jolted back, startled. At least it wasn't a slushy this time. He wiped it from his eyes, looking up, bewildered, "What's the queer doing wearing your number?" Azimio and Karofsky may not be on the football team, but their athlete status gave them prime way down to the players' box.

"I gave it to him. How the hell else would he get it?" Sam raised a brow, shoulders squaring in defense.

"Dude. Since when have you been a homo? Especially for the lead fairy of the school?" Azimio thrust open his arms in a 'what the hell' movement.

"What's it matter to you? You're not in the relationship, so why-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, you're his _boyfriend_?"

"So what if I am?" Sam had to admit, despite how confident his voice was, his heart was pounding in his chest. So far, Coach Beiste hadn't seemed to notice them, and none of the other players seemed to see them as a threat and he wondered if they'd continue to act oblivious if he punched either Azimio or Karofsky in the face, or if –

"Yeah, so what if he is." Sam looked over his shoulder and Puck stood behind him, brows knit together, eyes narrowed.

"That isn't a problem, is it?" From behind Azimio and Karofsky, both Finn and Artie appeared, their expressions matching Puck's: threatening. Sam grinned, feeling an ease settle back in his gut. He folded his arms over his chest, raising a brow at the two hockey players.

"Nah, it's not a problem, is it guys?"

"Dude, because if it is, I think you take another look at these guns," Puck flexed his arms and Sam felt the urge to let his eyes roll; he kept them in place, letting them bore holes into the jocks' faces, "And I know Hummel's got one hell of a kick, too. Remember last year? Yeah. Imagine _that_ in your soft-and-delicates." Azimio and Karofsky seemed to be debating on whether or not to open their mouths, before Karofsky held up his hands, shaking them nonchalantly as they retreated.

"Just watch yourself, _fag_!" Azimio called back over his shoulder, and Artie grabbed Finn's arm to keep him from going after them. It didn't do much good seeing as his wheel chair rolled right alongside of the other boy, but Sam made a quick grab and clutched the handles of his chair, pulling them both to a stop.

Finn looked absolutely furious, "What the hell gives them the right to say that shit, huh? I swear to god, one of these days I'm gonna... I'm gonna... well, I dunno what I'm gonna do, but I'm going to do something." There was a hesitant moment of silence before Artie, Puck, and Sam began to laugh. Finn was reasonably upset at first, but the laughter was soon contagious and tickling him as well as he chuckled along with the others. It was short-lived though, when Finn's face became generally concerned again.

"So you and Kurt... you guys are really... y'know..." Finn made a few sporadic hand gestures in the air as if might cover what he was trying to say. Though he understood, Sam raised a brow curiously, encouraging his friend to ask properly and Finn looked flustered.

"Finn is wondering if you and Kurt are getting it on." Artie put it simply.

"What? No!"

"Not yet, at least." Puck elbowed him sharply in the ribs, eyebrows wriggling suggestively.

"I was just gonna ask if they were dating!" Finn threw up his hands and Artie laughed. Sam grinned, pushing wet hair from his face and sat on the bench, taking another water bottle and popped the cap, taking a sip. The others waited expectantly. Sam shrugged,

"I'm taking him to Homecoming."

"So, then... you are dating?"

"I dunno, we never really said anything official yet."

"That's what facebook's for, my brother," Artie slapped him on the shoulder, "I'll be expecting an update either before or after the dance. Be prepared for about... all the girls in glee club to 'like' it a million times over."

"Speaking of Hummel-"

"We weren't, we were talking about facebook." Artie interjected and Puck slapped across the back of the head, continuing.

"Your boy's putting on a show, Evans."

"Trust me, I've noticed." Sam smirked, but Puck wasn't looking at Kurt. He was looking at the crowd of the opposite team, as well as a few people from their side.

"I don't think you can wait until Saturday, man. I mean, unless you're cool with half of the school's opposing team asking him out after this routine." Sam followed Puck's gaze and his eyes narrowed as he could catch people staring, not just to watch, but in ways that suggested they were possibly undressing the Cheerios (read: Kurt) with their eyes. He stood so abruptly, he nearly knocked Finn off the bench beside him.

"I'll be right back." Puck, Finn and Artie watched him go with exchanged glances.

"Twenty bucks we get a facebook update tonight."

"You're on."

–

Sam had certainly not planned to do this. It was really just him being spontaneous, you know? Sam didn't really think things through. Well, he thought about Kurt a lot, and he thought about what he wanted to do to Kurt a lot. _A lot_. But he didn't really think this through particularly well, but Sam decided he really didn't care.

The ending pose of the routine left the stands in a blaze of applause. Kurt had looked both confused, concerned and happy to see him when Sam came onto the field. Sam had to admit, his hands were sweating and he was just glad that he'd had water tossed in his face about ten minutes ago to make it look natural.

But it's those _looks_ that he can see on peoples' faces, hungry and watchful, that made Sam stride more confidently across the field. He knew he was getting strange looks, and quite possibly a death glare in the back of the head from Coach Sylvester, but he has to do this. He just _has_ to. And really? He just _wants_ to do this. Kurt's body relaxed from it's pose and Sam grinned as he approached. The other boy smiled back.

"To what do I owe this pleasure, Samuel? I do hope you realize Coach is going to have your head about-" Kurt's not even close to finishing his sentence when Sam throws down his helmet, closes the last bit of distance between him and the head Cheerio, cups his face with both hands and drags him up on his toes for a searing kiss.

Sam wasn't really sure, but he was about ninety-eight percent positive that the crowd got quieter, but in result, he could hear the catcalls and whistles headed their way from behind him. It made him kiss Kurt harder, hands going from his face to around his hips and tugging him closer. Kurt's go from being numb at his sides to Sam's chest and then suddenly around his neck, dragging him down to deepen the intensity. Hands down, it was Sam's best kiss.

When they withdrew, Sam was pleasantly surprised to find Kurt dazed and smiling deliriously up at him, "Be my boyfriend." The head Cheerio whispered and Sam laughed. There's a flicker of uncertainty in the other boy's eyes and Sam ran a hand through his hair reassuringly.

"It's just funny because that's what I was coming over here to ask." Sam drew back and eyed him up and down in a less than subtle way, but hey, he was no longer single as of about ten seconds ago, and this property was now _his_ so he reserved this right, "God, I'm giving you that jersey. There's no way anyone else could wear it better." Kurt's face pinkened and Sam reached out. Kurt stared at it questioningly and Sam flexed it, wiggling his fingers, "Take my hand."

Kurt reached out and interlaced their fingers together, suddenly pulling out his phone with his free hand. Sam looked down over his shoulder.

"What're you doing?" Sam asked. Kurt smiled up at him, rolling his eyes.

"Updating my facebook status, what else would I be doing?"

* * *

Reviews are love. : )


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: **Homecoming Tradition

**Pairing: **Kurt Hummel/Sam Evans

**Rating: **T

**Author's Note:** Sorry for taking so long. It's been so busy lately! Definitely been keeping up with Glee though, have you all? ; ) Good stuff's coming. This chapter's a bit of a filler as I work on the Homecoming dance. Enjoy!

* * *

"Please tell me that's not your father. Except that it totally is, but please tell me it's not." Sam had thought he'd done a really amazing job, despite not having thought the entire running-onto-the-field-and-kissing-Kurt thing out. That was, until he saw Burt Hummel. He knew the man through his garage. Just last week his mother had hit a devastatingly large pothole, and popped both her front right and rear tire. They'd been recommended Hummel's Tire and Lube center, boasting fair prices and high-quality work. Sam had been doubtful anything in this town besides Kurt's clothes were "high quality".

Though, when he'd pulled his mom's car up the front parking lot (his mother had been stuck at home with no one to watch the little monsters that were his younger twin brothers; Sam had been more than happy to take the car instead), Sam had been surprised to be greeted by Kurt bent over the front end of some glamorous Navigator - oh _god_, what that had done to him - in a pair of leggings and a flannel top, oil smudged on his hands and cheeks, a wrench between his teeth.

Sam met Burt Hummel about ten seconds later when he'd come out of the office and was intercepted from greeting Kurt and maybe laying a hard kiss on his lips because Kurt + flannel = really fucking cute. Burt didn't need to be some youngster to know the look in Sam's eyes as he was gawking at his son's ass bent over the car. The car was repaired, and even given a free vacuuming and a half-off deal on an oil change. His mother was ecstatic. Sam had had to excuse himself to his room because the image of fucking Kurt over the engine of that gorgeous car, yanking at that flannel shirt and rubbing slick oil through his hair and over his skin in dirty, naughty movements was – _ugh_.

Sam realized that probably wasn't the best thing to be thinking about as he approached the sidelines. Getting a hard on in front of Kurt's dad while thinking about fucking his son? Probably not the brightest idea. Burt was standing, arms folded, at the base of the bleachers, glaring at him. Carol, though, was positively beaming and before Burt could say a thing, her mouth was running off.

"Oh Kurt, who's this? Oh, look at his hair! Look at his face, oh my goodness, you're adorable!" Carol practically gushed as she came down to them, "I'm Carol Hudson, Finn Hudson's mother, soon to be Kurt's step-mother." At the last two words, Sam's eyes flashed to the rather glitzy, yet strangely simple and elegant ring that was on her left hand. He didn't miss the way she wriggled her fingers at him.

"And _you_ are?" Burt interjected before Sam could take Carol's hand. Any elation Sam had felt quietly melted and he felt Kurt squeeze his opposite hand.

"Sam Hudson – I mean Hummel – I mean Evans. Jeez. Too many names." Sam tripped over his words in a flurry as Burt thrust out his hand. The grip was hard. Manly. Maybe even threatening? A warning. Sam would be sure to listen if Burt decided to be vocal about it later.

"Now listen Sam, you said? Evans?" Or maybe now.

"Yes."

"C'mere, we're going to talk."

"But half-time's almost-"

"It'll only take a moment."

"Dad, stoppit! You can't go scaring off everyone I meet. You didn't get like this when I was around Brittany!" Kurt protested as Burt slung an arm around Sam's shoulders. Kurt's ran a hand through his hair, the free hand balled into a fist on his hip.

"Brittany didn't count, even you knew that. I just want to talk with him." Burt assured his son with a look that Sam could have said was innocent until it turned on him. Kurt let go of Sam's hand as he was taken away and Sam sent him a hurried look, almost desperate. Kurt watched, amused.

"Alright Evans. I need you to know a few things-" Burt started as they rounded about the bleachers, but Sam cut him off hurriedly,

"Mr. Hummel? ...Or sir? Listen, you seem like a really scary dude and like you'd probably own a cellar of guns or something, but you need to listen to me when I say I really, _really_ like Kurt," Sam's words began to pour from his mouth like a broken fountain, and he just hoped his word fumbling wouldn't kick in and he would end up spouting something else that was either offensive or got his ass kicked, "I mean, he's really hot, like _smokin'_ _hot_," Sam didn't miss the furrow that grew deeper in Burt's brow, "But he's so... god, you're son's amazing. He's so funny and so sweet, and he dresses so nice, and he's got to be one of the most self-righteous people I know and he knows what he wants and what he needs and how to stand up for himself and he's got this _voice_ and I'd never hurt him, I promise and... and... and, uh..."

Burt was staring at him like he might have two heads, but the dark cloud in his eyes had disappeared. Kurt might not have Burt's eyes, but that had that same crinkle that occurred around them when they smiled.

"I'm rambling." Sam realized he hadn't taken a breath in about the last minute, panting, cheeks flushed.

"And I approve."

"... huh?"

"I was going to pull out the cellar of guns on you, but it seems you understand that," Burt clapped him on the shoulder and Sam blinked, startled, "But most importantly, you _care_ for my son. That's all I need to know." Sam grinned nervously and Burt returned the smile, only more confident. The hand on his shoulder, though, tightened not even a second later, "But understand, I might not have a cellar of guns, but I do have a shotgun in the attic."

Sam let Burt walk past him, and he could see the smirk out of the corner of his eye. He stood there for a long moment, just breathing as the horn went off, signaling the end of half time. It startled him from his reverie and Sam pumped his fist in the air, letting out a whoop as he turned about and jogged out from behind the bleachers. Kurt was waving to Carol as she and Burt headed back up the bleacher steps to take their seats again.

"Hey." Kurt raised a brow at him as he approached. Very Burt-like in Sam's opinion.

"I'm not dead. It's a start," Sam chuckled, pulling Kurt in by the waist and brought him in for another swift kiss, "Next touchdown I make is for you." Kurt laughed, playfully punching him in the shoulder.

"Cliché Evans, cliché."

"You love it, don't lie."

"I suppose," Kurt teased and Sam pulled his helmet over his head, slapping it down, "Now go win that game." Kurt smacked his ass as he jogged away and it was Sam's turn to blush. Okay, so, he'd survived Burt Hummel and Kurt was successfully wooed and Sam was so very, _very_ happy. Sam felt on top of the world as he took his place in the field.

It made it all the better knowing tomorrow would be even better.

* * *

_Reviews are love._


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